


Citizen Backfire

by GreyLiliy



Series: Life in Glass Houses [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Stories about Citizen Backfire (an OC for the Life in Glass Houses AU Universe by blueskyscribe).
Series: Life in Glass Houses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/553153
Kudos: 6





	1. Rivalry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueskyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskyscribe/gifts).



> These stories were written for my Citizen Backfire RP Blog. They were part of a request for background stories. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drillhammer is jealous of Backfire’s relationship with Humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on January 26, 2014 as “Rivalry” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on April 14, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]

When you look identical to two hundred or so other mechs on a ship, folks think that there might be rivalry issues among the ranks. That somehow having an identical frame, puts you all on the same level with each other—like weird siblings.

Well. That wasn’t really accurate. There were rivalries, but not for the reasons most of the other mechs assumed. Just because the rest of the ship couldn’t tell them apart, didn’t mean Citizens couldn’t. They looked the same, but you—you could tell. It was in the spark.

No, the rivalries happened like with any other mech. Someone you didn’t like decided to start something.

Drillhammer started something.

“Hey, did you see me out on the training room floor?” Drillhammer said, slapping Backfire’s wing. “I beat your score by at least four to five kliks.”

“It’s not a competition, Drillhammer,” Backfire said. Why was he even bragging? Backfire was barely making the top fifty in the rankings for the security squad. Getting a better score wasn’t all that impressive. “What’s your point?”

“Just saying,” Drillhammer said, tapping the giant flower plastered on the side of his helm. “You’re slipping.”

“Have you seen Humming?” Backfire asked, moving the conversation in another direction. “We were going for a quick flight.”

“Nah, haven’t seen your little bosom buddy,” Drillhammer said. He wrapped an arm around Backfire’s shoulder. “We could go for a flight instead.”

“I don’t think so,” Backfire said, pushing off Drillhammer’s arm. “I’ll see you later.”

Drillhammer growled. “What’s he got that I don’t?”

“Excuse me?” Backfire asked.

“Your buddy Humming,” Drillhammer said. He stomped his foot. “What’s he got that I don’t?”

“Nothing, I guess,” Backfire said, tilting his head oddly. “He’s just my friend. That’s all.”

“Are we not friends?” Drillhammer asked, flicking his wings.

“Not…last I checked,” Backfire answered. He didn’t hate Drillhammer, but they never really talked—outside of him bragging—and he didn’t know what to do with the guy. They were teammates at the most. “Why?”

“Fine then!” Drillhammer shouted, pointing a finger. “I don’t need you for a friend, anyway. You’re a loser. I’m better than you, and I’m going to be better than you at everything! Just you watch, you, you—Disease! Yeah. You’re just a disease!”

Drillhammer turned and stomped away leaving a confused Backfire in his wake.

Backfire’s wings dropped and he shook his head slowly. “What just happened?

From that moment on, Drillhammer made it his duty and job to make Backfire miserable at every opportunity.


	2. Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seasons were the oddest thing about Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on January 30, 2014 as “Seasons” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on April 14, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]

Weather was by far the weirdest part about Earth. 

It never seemed to make up it’s mind. Sometimes it was hot. Or Rainy. Or windy or all sorts of other nasty things that got Backfire stuck in trees (fragging wind gusts!). Plus, thanks to a thing the human’s called “Seasons” according to Dreadwing, the temperature and most common type of weather changed, too, depending on what time of the year it was. 

At the moment, it was the cold one: “Winter.”

Backfire stood on the deck of their airship as they cruised above the cloudline, arms crossed and shivering. Humming looked over the edge, trying to get a better look at the snow falling from the cloud just under them. He leaned over, his wings twitching in the frigid air. They were both insane to be outside right now.

“Why are we on deck again?” Backfire said, kicking Humming in the side with the edge of his foot. A breeze passed by and he trembled as the air went straight through him like daggers. “It’s cold. I can feel my inner piping freezing as we sit. It’s already brittle enough as it is, I don’t need it all shattering because we’re too dumb to go inside.”

“I wanted to see the snow,” Humming said. His fingers drummed on the side of the deck as he moved his head around, trying to peak through the holes in the clouds. “Last Winter, we weren’t over an area that got any.”

“It’d be easier to see if you flew down there and looked,” Backfire said. He tapped his foot on the deck and tried to get the energon flowing again. He could feel it making its sluggish way through his piping as it froze. “You know, since the snow is under the clouds?”

Humming stood up and poked Backfire in the chest. “I want to see the snow, not crash in it.”

“But you can’t see it from up here!” Backfire said, throwing his arms up. “We figured that out twenty minutes ago, and we’re still out here freezing.”

“Stop being an aft,” Humming said. He turned around and flicked Backfire in the face with his wings. “You can go in any time you want.”

Backfire dropped his shoulder and rolled his head to the side, rubbing his helm. “Oh come on, like I’m going to leave you all alone out here. Your motherboard’ll freeze and then what? I’ll be short a patrol partner, because you passed out on the deck and died of the Cybertronian equivalent to Hyperthermia.”

“Then stop complaining,” Humming said. He got back on his knees and leaned as far over the edge as he could. Head over the side, and aft in the air. “And it’s not that cold.”

Backfire begged to differ.

So, he put the base of his heel on Humming’s aft and pushed him off the edge.

“Woah!” Humming screeched as he tumbled over the edge. There was an almost audible ‘poof’ as he hit the clouds, and Backfire heard him scream “AFT!” all the way on deck.

"Yup!” Backfire laughed, taking a little running leap and jumping off the side, diving through the clouds much more gracefully than his flailing friend. They were going down there, seeing the pit-forsaken snow, and then going inside the warm, warm ship. “Watch out below!”

Humming and Backfire dumped into a sea of white, that emptied out into a brisk open sky full of swirling snowflakes. Backfire got a good look at the open area, stunned for a moment by the gently falling snow before transforming into Jet Mode. He came up alongside the alread-transformed Humming and tapped his wing against his friend. 

“Isn’t this better?” Backfire chuckled, swerving away before Humming could retaliate.

Humming dipped and did a spin around a larger group of snowflakes. He was silent for a few seconds, before laughing over the line, “Yeah, this is a better view.”

Backfire paid attention to the bits of ice clung to their front windows in little batches. They were all different! Little tiny designs were in the ice, like someone had sat there and carved them. It was beautiful. “We should have done this twenty minutes ago.”

“Well twenty minutes ago we didn’t know if it was a light flurry or a blizzard,” Humming said, turning up his thrusters and blowing by the snow, sending the flakes into little whirlwinds. “Bet you didn’t think of that, aft.”

“Nope,” Backfire said. He followed Humming’s flight trail, happy for the warm thrusters and excess heat his engine was producing. It was still fragging cold out here. “You seen enough, yet?”

“Yeah,” Humming said, slowing up. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Good,” Backfire said, turning and heading back up toward the ship. He was going inside, grabbing a cup of hot oil, and staying in his room until next shift. Where it was warm. “Then let’s go.”

Humming flew up alongside Backfire and shook a bit to dislodge the collecting snow that managed to stick to their freezing frames. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Backfire asked, busting through the clouds and transforming to land on deck. Humming landed beside him and slapped him on the arm. “What’s up?”

“Thanks,” Humming said. He tapped Backfire’s arm once more and headed for the lift door. “Let’s go get some hot oil.”

“I am all up for that,” Backfire said, quickly tapping after his friend. “Where it’s warm.”

"You won’t be saying that when Summer comes back,” Humming said. “Then you’ll be begging for all this cold weather.”

“Humming, don’t be an aft,” Backfire said.

“I can’t be an aft,” Humming said. “That’s you.”

“Hey!” Backfire hissed, chasing his friend into the lift.


	3. Imprisonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A jet was not meant to be confined to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on February 3, 2014 as “Imprisonment” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on April 14, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]

Backfire’s frame itched.

He drove along the rooftop of the crumbling building, wheels rough on the bumpy surface. Backfire transformed a couple feet from the ledge, stretching out his limbs as far as he could go. Patrolling the rooftops on foot wasn’t anyone’s favorite assignment, but Backfire liked it up here. The height and open air gave him room to think. It felt better up here. Backfire vented heavily, moving into position on the rooftop corner.

Now if only his frame would stop driving him insane.

It was a confining feeling—almost like he was trapped inside of something. Backfire drummed his fingers on the wheels on his shoulders. The fingertips playing with the grooved edges. Did the others feel this way in their new frames? Backfire had had his for nearly the entire war at this point. It had to be better than the half decomposed thing he’d been trapped in while in that Autobot cell.

But it wasn’t.

It was almost worse. Backfire was carrying a personal little prison with him at every step. The heavy weight of the paper-thin frame wore him out, and made his spark ache. No one else seemed to have this problem. They went about their business on patrols and fighting back in the torn Cybertronian streets as if nothing bothered them. They constantly joked about how alike they were, instead of complaining about a bad frame fit—so why did Backfire have to feel so different?

He squatted just beside the building ledge, and looked over and down to the empty streets below. No movement. Backfire leaned against his cover—a piece of large debris that had been knocked off from the adjoining building—and rubbed at the dark grey and blue camouflage chalk that covered his orange frame. That didn’t bother him at all.

He squirmed in his seat. Moving around and walking let him ignore the smothering feeling of his frame for a few seconds. Sitting still, it was impossible to ignore.

Backfire’s spark beat heavily, crawling in and out of the sensitive wiring that kept his body moving. It was sluggish, like every pulse was a struggle. Backfire knocked his helm against the rock and heaved. If he was going to live with chronic pain, couldn’t he at least have gotten used to it by now!?

A blur of yellow past by, flying over the gap between the buildings, followed by a screech that echoed across the entire roof.

“Yellowjacket,” Backfire said, whipping his head around and swapping his hand for a cannon. He got to his feet and it felt like his entire frame dropped to the ground around him. There was no mistaking the black and yellow vehicle across the way. Yellowjacket could tear through a Citizen Frame like it was tin foil. Backfire cursed, “Frag.”

The Autobot transformed from vehicle mode, and shook out his limbs like he was stretching. He turned, giant red optics zeroing in on lonely little Backfire. His own cannon came out, and his chuckle sent far more of a shiver down Backfire’s spark and frame than his usual ache ever could.

Backfire transformed and made a drive for it.

Yellowjacket followed, practically cackling. He caught up effortlessly, and slammed into Backfire’s side. He scooted the two of them across the deck and laughed when Backfire spun out and slammed into a ledge wall. Yellowjacket’s warped words made their way through the shrieking and shattered voice, “Wow, not even a minor re-adjust? Someone’s not very good on his wheels.”

“Frag,” Backfire said again. He didn’t know how else to respond—Yellowjacket wasn’t wrong. He was a lousy a driver. So he did the next best thing. Backfire transformed and made a run for it. If wheels were going to fail, might as well try running.

Yellowjacket did not share this philosophy. His engine revved and he made a dash across the rooftop, slamming into Backfire. He flew—the force of the hit sending him up and over the side of the wall. Backfire flailed, going over the edge and falling into the open air.

The air rushed by through him, filling every inch of his loose plating.

Backfire’s spark picked up, and he relished every inch of it. He was going to die but—wow. WOW! What a feeling. He flipped over to feel it on his face. The wind, the air, the feeling of every single one of his systems lighting up in ecstasy. Backfire spread his arms out and didn’t even care that the ground was quickly approaching. Backfire laughed, joy overloading his spark. He wanted to savor every minute of this!

Backfire felt free!

“Gotcha!” Someone said, their arms wrapping around Backfire’s waist ten or so feet from the ground.

The speed of the wind whipped harder around him as he went back up, fighting the gravity of the planet. That was even better! Backfire was let go for a second, and the familiar transforming sound filled the air. He clutched to the back of the jet that had caught him, and laughed the whole way down to the ground where they landed on the street. Backfire was unsteady on his feet, and barely felt it when he was dragged under cover by his rescuer.

“You, you okay?” The jet asked—another Citizen! He waved his hand in front of Backfire’s face. “You’re laughing.”

“That-that was awesome!” Backfire said, turning and grabbing the jet by the shoulders. He shook them, unable to contain his excitement. Backfire pointed up, and shouted, “I want to do that again!”

“You hit your head,” the jet said. He pulled on Backfire’s arm, and started to walk under the cover of the buildings. “Let’s get you to Knockdown.”

* * *

Backfire’s frame burned.

“I’m glad Humming was there to catch you,” Knockdown said, looking over Backfire’s frame. “Or you’d have worse than a few dents.”

Backfire wasn’t listening. After the feel of the wind, and the freedom of falling—it was ten times worse. Enough that he was about to go crawl out the window and jump off again. Backfire stared down the window edge. He could survive a jump from here. Surely he could. What was a few dents to feel that good again?

“Backfire?” Knockdown asked. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, Doc,” Backfire said, hand clutching at the edge of his chest. Knockdown’s wings flicked, and Backfire’s spark gave a leap. Something—there was something there. “Little distracted.”

“You keep looking out the window,” Knockdown said. He raised an optic ridge and glanced down at the report Humming had turned in describing his rescue. “You enjoyed falling?”

“Yeah,” Backfire admitted, weakly. I loved it more than I could possibly tell you. Backfire scratched at his arm. “I did.”

“I’m going to have you see Trauma,” Knockdown said, closing his file and setting it on the counter.

Backfire winced, both from his spark itching for something and the narrowed glare he received from the doctor.

* * *

Three weeks later, Backfire was fitted in a new frame—a jet type.

Those talks with Trauma paid off. After a few questions and answers, and a test or two—they figured out why everything had been wrong for so long. They’d stuck Backfire in the wrong frame. He hadn’t been a car before he was locked up—he’d been a jet! His wings had just fallen off and he’d forgotten!

And now? Backfire was flying. It was the greatest feeling he’d ever felt in his life. His spark leaped, his engines purred, and everything was right with the world. How had he forgotten this? How could he ever in a million years have forgotten this!?

“YAHOO!” Backfire shouted, doing a spin the air. They were on Earth, the sky was clear, and he flew as fast as he possibly could.

“Glad you’re having fun,” Humming laughed, trying to keep up. “But slow down, would you?”

“Sorry,” Backfire said, cutting off the fuel line a bit. He swung next to Humming, buzzing excitedly. He laughed, happy that he could do this every day for the rest of his life if he wanted. Backfire’s spark burst right along with him. “Just, never felt so free!”


End file.
